Best Laid Plans (35 page)

Dunbar reacted to the name Everett, but didn’t say anything.

Was Lucy the only one who saw it? Barry was about to continue, but Lucy said, “Dunbar, what do you know about James Everett?”

“It’s not relevant.”

“We’re sharing everything we know, it would help if you did the same.”

Dunbar snorted and looked away.

Naygrew looked pointedly at Lucy, then at Dunbar.

“Agent Dunbar, has the name James Everett come up in your investigation into Adeline Worthington?”

It was clear he didn’t want to answer, but because this was the SAC asking, he did. “He is a person of interest in several of the illegal land deals.”

“So he was working with Congresswoman Worthington?”

“Everett and Adeline were partners before she married Worthington. She left the partnership before she ran for public office, but Everett handled many of these suspicious transactions. However, they appear to have had a falling out recently—over the last couple of months—and he endorsed her opponent.”

“Do you know why?” Naygrew pushed.

“No, sir.”

But he wasn’t looking directly at Naygrew. Lucy’s instincts twitched. “He’s one of your informants, isn’t he?”

Dunbar reddened. “I’m not at liberty to discuss any of our confidential informants.”

Which meant yes. Everett was an informant and he didn’t want his reputation to be tarnished when Adeline went down for bribery and political corruption.

“Why did you bug Worthington’s phone only four weeks ago?” Lucy asked. “Especially since you’ve been here for six months. That was right when he came back from D.C., right about the time he started acting out of character … Did Worthington talk to someone on your team?”

“I can’t—”

Naygrew leaned forward. “Logan, I understand you’ve put a lot of time and effort into this investigation, but my team is investigating the homicide of a federal contractor who had access to confidential financial information that involved national security. It helps us to know what he was doing during his last weeks of life.”

“Yes,” Dunbar said shortly. He glanced at Lucy, anger etched in his face, then turned away. “Mr. Worthington came into the D.C. office on May seventh and spoke to my boss. He came with information that we already knew, but we didn’t know his motive, and we had far more information about his wife’s activities than he did. We determined that we could not bring him into the investigation because of spousal privilege—we didn’t want to give Adeline any leverage against us when we bring down the hammer. So we put him off. Told him we’d look into it.”

“Then you tapped his phone,” Barry said.

“So we could keep tabs on him. It was done legally.” He glanced at his watch. “I really need to get back to the campaign. I’ve already been gone nearly two hours.”

Juan said, “Barry, Lucy, I think you’re on to something with Worthington. But there is no evidence that the congresswoman was involved in his murder. And honestly, there would be easier ways to kill him than to set up a scene that is potentially embarrassing to her and her reelection. However, Harper Worthington could have found something in one of his audits that got him killed, and the manner of his death was simply to embarrass him or divert attention. And it wasn’t very professional—DNA and the other evidence at the scene all led you to the prostitute. You need to work her, find out who hired her, and then we’ll see where that goes. You have my permission to continue pursuing the investigation wherever it may lead.”

“Juan, with all due respect—” Dunbar began.

Juan put his hand up. “But do not approach Adeline Worthington or anyone on her staff without consulting with me first. Logan and his team have a good case against her, and I don’t want to risk losing that conviction on the thin chance she may have been involved with her husband’s murder. Logan and I will work out a way to communicate, should we uncover evidence that directly links the congresswoman to murder.”

“Thank you, Juan,” Dunbar said.

Ritz smiled. “I knew if I put you all in the room together, you’d work out a reasonable agreement. Logan, when are you expecting to wrap up your investigation?”

“Sir, the final decision will be with the AUSA and Assistant Director Rick Stockton. Director Stockton is the one who approved this op. Because it’s an election year, we don’t want to be perceived as being political by exposing her without an absolute clear, irrefutable case; at the same time, Stockton doesn’t want anything that could be perceived as an October Surprise, so we’re hoping to wrap everything up by the end of June and issue the indictments.” He hesitated, then turned to Lucy and Barry. “An olive branch—if I uncover anything that suggests Adeline was involved in her husband’s death, I’ll let Juan know. Likewise, if you learn anything about Adeline or her staff that might help in my investigation?”

“Of course,” Barry said. “Juan will know everything we know.”

“Good,” Ritz said. “I’ll call Stockton with a report of this meeting and our agreement. Thank you for coming down, Logan. If you need any help from my office, call me directly.”

“Thank you, sir.”

*   *   *

Barry followed Lucy to her cubicle after the meeting. “What did Logan mean about you pushing this investigation?”

“I don’t know,” Lucy said. But she had her suspicions.

Barry pulled a chair over from Kenzie’s empty desk and sat. “Lucy, this is the first time we’ve worked as partners since you’ve been here. I have my way of doing things, you have yours. So far, your instincts have been sharp. But I watched your expression in that room, and you were holding something back. What?”

“I’m not keeping anything relevant from you,” she said.

“What don’t you think is relevant?”

“Logan Dunbar is from D.C. I worked out of the D.C. office for a couple of months as an analyst before I started at Quantico. I butted heads with Dunbar’s boss on a case I worked.”

“That’s not it.”

“Then I don’t know what.” But she did. Only, she didn’t want to share with Barry. Or anyone.

“When he mentioned Assistant Director Rick Stockton, you reacted.”

“I did?”

“Don’t play poker with me.” He smiled. It was the first time since they’d started working this case together that Barry seemed to be relaxed around her. As if they were actual partners, not just colleagues.

She caught herself biting her bottom lip, a nervous habit she’d thought she’d lost. “I don’t like to name drop.”

“You didn’t.”

She hesitated, because she really didn’t want to make it seem like she’d enjoyed any favoritism. It had been difficult enough when she’d learned that her mentor, Dr. Hans Vigo, had pulled strings to get her into Quantico after her application had been denied. But if Barry called the right people, he could learn about her friendship with Rick and she didn’t want him to think that she was keeping anything from him. And trust was a two-way street.

“It’s really not anything,” she said, “but I worked on some projects for Rick Stockton while I was at Quantico. There’s a family connection.”

“You’re related to Stockton?”

“No—nothing like that. Rick is good friends with my brother and sister-in-law.” That was the simplest explanation, and completely true. She didn’t need to go into Rick’s connection to RCK or the Rogan family or talk about what specifically she’d worked on.

“Which brother?”

What did Barry know about her family? She said, “Dillon, mostly. He’s a forensic psychiatrist. And Jack, because of Jack’s work with RCK.” As she said it she realized she was connected to Rick on many levels. He’d also been in the Marines with Kane—at least Lucy thought he had.

“Aren’t your brothers both married to FBI agents?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I just heard it somewhere,” he said vaguely. Great, Lucy thought, her personal life was a discussion point in the office. “So you’ve known Stockton for a while.”

“A couple of years. Logan thinks it’s a bigger deal than it is. I haven’t even talked to Rick since I graduated.”

“Most of us aren’t on a first-name basis with an assistant director of the FBI.”

Then Lucy was definitely not going to tell him she was on a first-name basis with
two
of the ADs.

“This is why I don’t talk about this stuff,” Lucy said. “Yes, I have connections. I have family in the FBI. My brother is a civilian consultant to the FBI. But I just want to do my job.”

Barry leaned back. “I understand.”

She hoped he did.

“Don’t worry about Logan Dunbar,” Barry said. “He has his case, we have ours.”

“So, where do we go from here?”

“We need to get Elise Hansen to tell us everything she knows. As soon as the doctor clears her for release, we arrest her. It’s time to play hardball.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Lucy arrived home before Sean. She showered, then changed into her cut-off sweatpants and one of Sean’s T-shirts. She’d never told Sean why she liked to wear his T-shirts, because she thought it would sound silly, but they smelled like him and made her feel safe and loved, even when he was working.

Sean said he’d be home by eight, and it was quarter to that now. She was exhausted, the late night coming back to haunt her. She’d gotten her second wind that afternoon after lunch, but now if she sat down anywhere, she’d fall asleep. Instead, she walked through the house and watered their plants, then stood in the kitchen thinking about what to eat. Nothing sounded appetizing, and she didn’t feel hungry. She padded down the hall to the living room and curled into the corner of the sofa. She flipped through her satchel where she kept the files from the case, and pulled out the packet of notes that Harper Worthington had left on his tablet. She wished she knew what the dates meant. So far, no one in the lab had any idea what they were, but they were running a multitude of programs against local and national events to see if anything popped.

Her eyes were drooping, but then her phone beeped. She thought it was a message from Sean. Instead, it was a personal email from her sister Carina, with a photo attached—an ultrasound of her baby at thirty-eight weeks.

The kid will be here any day the doctor says. I’m ready. I feel like I’m carrying a giant pumpkin in my stomach. I have to pee every hour, on the hour, day and night. I hope you can visit when the baby comes. Nick totally rejected Nick, Jr. He suggested John Patrick, after his father and Dad. I think I’ll give in to Nick on the boy’s name. But we both agree on Rosemary for a girl. Rosie is just a joyful name. Rosemary Thomas. Like it? Connor and Julia are giving us a bad time for wanting to be surprised about the gender. But there’re not enough true surprises in the world anymore, and this is one of them.

Call me sometime. I’m going stir-crazy. I can live vicariously through you!

Lucy smiled. Carina was a workaholic, but being pregnant had certainly changed her. She’d been trying to conceive for two years, and suffered three miscarriages. She hadn’t thought she’d be able to carry a baby to term, and this little guy—or gal—was a miracle. Lucy was happy for her. Carina planned on going back to work eventually, but since her husband’s PI business with Connor, their brother, was finally in the black, Lucy wondered if she would.

Lucy hoped she could get away after the baby was born, even for a weekend, but she was also apprehensive. When she’d been a teenager, the idea of falling in love, getting married, and having a family was a distant dream—far in the future, but pretty much guaranteed. She’d never given it much thought.

Until she was eighteen.

Her rape and the brutality she’d endured for nearly two days resulted in extensive damage, and her uterus had been removed. The surgery had saved her life, but she’d never have children. She couldn’t even think about what ifs or maybe whens, because she had no choice. It had been stolen from her, and for a long time she’d been depressed. She hated visiting her counselor after the rape—she didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t want to discuss her feelings or her anger or her fear. But the one thing the counselor said that stuck with her was that losing children she hadn’t known she’d wanted left her in a state of perpetual mourning.

It had gotten better over time. Sean had been a rock. He said when they were ready to have a family, they’d adopt. She liked that idea, because there were so many kids who needed a stable home. But that was far down the road. She was twenty-six, Sean thirty. They had time. They weren’t even married.

Yet … spending a week with Sean’s brother Duke, his wife, Nora, and their newborn, Molly, had brought back all those feelings of loss, and a deep sense of mourning for something intangible. Lucy couldn’t articulate it, and she didn’t want to talk about it with Sean. He’d do everything to understand her feelings. He’d listen and hold her and tell her he loved her.

But he’d never have a baby with her. Sean would make a wonderful father, and she feared by loving her, he was missing an amazing opportunity. That she was denying him a child of his own. Watching Sean with Molly reminded her that she wasn’t whole, she’d never have a child that was half her, half Sean. Then she’d feel guilty, thinking about all the other women who couldn’t have children. Why couldn’t she just accept it and get on with her life? Why did this overwhelming sense of loss keep coming back? Why did she feel like she was still broken?